Goryo
by Locked Heart Ami
Summary: Yuffie wasn't fond of Vincent when they first met. Actually, she wasn't even convinced that he was human.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: It recently occurred to me that WuTai is kind of the Tibet of the FF7 world, which renewed my interest in WuTai and Yuffie, and brought me to finish this piece (although it has nothing to do with politics), which I started several years ago. Enjoy!_

I don't know what people have against WuTaians! We pay our taxes, just like everyone else. We help people in need. We do our laundry regularly. We have an appointed leader – who happens to be my dad! – and he has lots of subordinates scurrying around in appropriately self-righteous manners, so, more or less, everything gets done that needs doing. You know what I mean? In every respect we're a perfectly normal, conforming, independently-governed-municipality.

But, for some reason, the rest of the world apparently still sees fit to treat us like dirt. Tourist trash, you know? I don't know what excuses people think of to belittle the cultural center of the world. I mean, the ShinRa can pump out electric power till they keel over and die, but they'll never understand the finer points of a geisha's arts or see a samurai's wall hung with the swords of less honorable enemies. And they'll definitely never understand a princess ready to shun her royal heritage and pretend to be a ninja to try to win back WuTai's former honor, a fraction of our former dignity.

The ShinRa don't know what honor is, what dignity is. They don't even know what WuTai is. Ha ha.

Take this ass we just picked up, for instance. Great, Cloud. Fabulous-wonderful. Only you could sneak into a dilapidated, abandoned mansion, searching for something as bstract as "answers" (whatever that means), and come out with something a little more concrete – a tall, pale, red-robed, raven-haired THING. I'm not sure WHAT this guy is. If I were a few years younger, I would have thought he was a _goryo_. Spit in his direction when he passed, always have salt in my pocket in case I met him on the road.

Of course, I'm older now, and obviously I realize he's human. Deep down. He's scary-looking, but come on. He couldn't be anything else. His appearance, however, is definitely unsettling; he's tall, taller than Cloud, taller than Cid actually, and his gaunt blanched body is built so small and sly that he looks even taller. Cloud and Cid both have some muscle on their frames, to even it out some, but this guy is all bone. He's so white, I don't know. Maybe it isn't skin. Maybe it's snow-colored bone I'm seeing. _Goryo_. I shiver in spite of myself.

Anyway, couple this formidable figure with fiery, blood-hued eyes, flickering with intensity; with long black lashes; with waist-length, silky hair; and, oh yeah, with a cape! I'm not kidding, the guy has a cape, a crimson robe billowing out behind him over ebony tunic and leggings. The collar of this cloak is so high that his mouth is obscured. He's more than frightening, he's a truly terrific sight, let me assure you.

And, when he and Cloud and Tifa came strolling very calmly out of the ShinRa Mansion, looking quite normal and contented, I glanced at Cid. The pilot spent time among the WuTaians, knew legends of the _goryo_, tales of the vampire-ghosts of aristocrats, who steal human's souls and puppeteer their bodies… "_Goryo_," I whisper to Cid, under my breath. He laughs.

Oh, that's comforting.

In the legends, the animated cadavers – the _goryo_'s puppets – can't speak. I test my theory directly. "Cloud? Tifa?!" Tifa waves; Cloud nods. Nowhere near good enough! I run to them. "Tifa, come on, talk to me!"

She shoots me a worried look and says, "Are you all right, Yuffie?"

I huff a big sigh of relief, glancing back at Cid, who's rolling his eyes. I stick out my tongue in vengeance. It's not my fault I'm willing to ensure that our bestest buddies in the whole world aren't zombified, and he thinks he's too cool for that stuff. We'll see who the zombies go after first if we ever encounter a real _goryo_ and, hint, it won't be me.

I turn back to Tifa, Cloud, and the not-_goryo_. "Who is this guy?" I demand. "Some kind of crazy vampire thing?" Vampires are a Junon legend, one I count on them to know.

"This is Vincent Valentine," Tifa replies.

"Not who is he," I sniff. "WHAT is he."

The answer to that question should be automatic, but Tifa glances at Cloud, hesitates. Way, way bad sign. "Well, Vincent…" Tifa shrugs. "Vincent's… a little hard to explain."

It's Vincent himself who speaks next, and his voice is a shock. Not the way it sounds, it's low and silky, simply that I didn't expect this silent entity to be capable of speech. He seemed too ethereal to give voice to a statement. But give voice he did, and, to my irritation, the stupid statement was "You're WuTaian."

I don't even try to hide my hackles rising. "Look, if you've got a problem – "

"No problem," he assures me, very quietly still. He's not even looking at me. "It's just been long since I've see a face from that place. Not here in Nibelheim."

That just pisses me off. "Glad to be of service," I spit. "Travelling ninja. Providing people with glimpses of exotic, faraway cultures with none of the travel fees. Guess what? I even walk and talk."

"Yuffie," Cloud says, rolling his eyes, "Spare us the theatrics."

"I'm allowed to engage in critiquing globalism if I want to. You can't stop me. I'm sticking it to the man."

Cloud blinks. "Critiquing? I'm surprised you even know that word."

Oh no he didn't! And worst of all, Vincent's eyes are flickering as though he's amused. Amused! "Indeed," he says. I smolder and hope my pretty WuTaian face is communicating my homicidal intent attractively.

Maybe it does. The corners of his ruby eyes – really, the only way to read this guy's expression – crowfoot a little, suggesting a frown. "I didn't intend to offend you, Miss…."

"She's not Miss," Cloud says bluntly, throwing a leg over his motorcycle. "She's just Yuffie." Cid chuckles.

I raise my eyebrows, quite ready to give a tongue-lashing to every male member of this group, old and new – but, in the interests of peace, love, and harmony, Aeris intervenes. "Miss Yuffie Kisaragi," she says softly, touching a flower twined into her hair. Vincent gives her the look all men give Aeris.

Whatever. I've got short hair and no boobs and chicken legs and a big, hungry smile, and I like it that way. Best defense a lone girl can have on the road, being a little homely. Look at it this way – the way I hear it, Aeris got smacked into a helicopter and almost mated with an alley cat. If those are the generous gifts of beauty, I'm happy to look like a hungry fox instead of a flower.

Still, I don't know what it's like to be looked at that way.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Miss Yuffie Kisaragi," Vincent says, and looks at me, and then suddenly I do.

And don't like it. It's like being an object. A pretty piece of art. I step closer to the rest of the party, away from Vincent. "Whatever."

"I hope you won't hold thoughtless words against a man who didn't mean them."

He's slick, I'll give him that. I feel my annoyance begin to melt away, in spite of myself. "Whatever," I say, but can't make it sound like I mean it. "Don't worry about it."

He extends a hand for me to shake in reconciliation. Without really looking, I reach out and take it. And that's when I get my second shock.

His hand is made of metal.

Ohmigod.

I jump and shriek and snatch my hand back, holding it like he's burned me, staring at this freak. Staring at his hand, which is not a hand at all – which is a metal claw. "Whaaaat is going ON?!" I yell. Aeris starts to say something and I trample in big spiked boots all over the soft flowers in her voice. "What the hell are you? What is with this guy?!"

Vincent calmly drops the claw to his side and pulls his sleeve over it. His voice says nothing. But his eyes are staring at me, and they are saying murder.

"Don't be a brat, Yuffie," Cloud warns me. He checks his watch. "Look… we're running out of time, guys. We've been here too long. Let's mosey."

"I am not moseying anywhere with this fine feathered _goryo_ freak!" I'm starting to sound a little hysterical. Makes sense. I feel a lot hysterical. "You can't drag me!"

"You're more than welcome to leave," Cloud said dryly. "Vincent's a fighter and he's on our side. He stays."

"I'm sure we can all get along," Aeris says. Tifa nods adamantly. "There's no small disagreement we can't work through in the service of the greater good."

I hesitate.

Tifa's lip twitches and she murmurs something to Aeris, who giggles and nods. "Besides, Yuffie," Aeris says with a smile, "Can you imagine – no offense to you, Vincent – but can you imagine how many materia slots are in that arm?" Her voice is coaxing. "A sensible businesswoman like you knows better than to give up an opportunity to do field research in that department."

It's not like I don't get what Aeris is doing. She figures I spoke without thinking; she and Tifa are offering me an out, a way to save face. They figure now I can stay with the group without having to admit I was wrong. They probably figure I'm sorry and I shouldn't have to say it in order to stay.

Well, I'm NOT sorry and I WASN'T wrong and I DIDN'T speak without thinking. I meant what I said and I still mean it. This guy IS a freak, and he's a rude smooth-talker into the bargain. A _goryo_'s body and a demon's arm and all the tact of a bar bum. I don't want this guy hanging around with us.

But I don't want to leave, either. Aeris and Tifa got that right. I'm fond of the vast quantities of materia these people carry with them. And – let's face it – I'm fond of these people, too.

So I sigh, swallow my pride a little, pretend to adopt one of my eager, sneaky stances, and say in a moderately convincing tone, "Well, I guess that puts a different spin on things." This is a very weird feeling. I'm a reluctant Yuffie pretending to be an eager, excited Yuffie pretending to be a reluctant Yuffie. That's three Yuffies. Count 'em. "You can probably come along for the ride, Vince," I say. "If you behave and all."

"Then we're settled," Cloud says, sliding his goggles down and throwing a leg over his motorcycle. "So, come on, let's roll."

And we rolled, and Vincent rolled too, and my day was thoroughly ruined.

Whatever. They all seem glad to have this guy. Cloud's always happy to have a fighter, and maybe he'll play second fiddle once either Aeris or Tifa wins that little catfight over Cloud. Cid can talk about stupid stuff like guns and rockets. Red XIII will be glad to have another freak around. Barret, Cait Sith, all of them. No one else in this party knows what's so obvious to me – not only is this Vincent guy a total ponce, he's not even human.


	2. Chapter 2

We parked down in the wilds that night. No nice, fluffy bed in Costa De Sol for Yuffie. No inn in WuTai. Just a canvas tent, bread rolls for supper, and a bed roll to sleep on – both rolls equally thin, paltry, and unsatisfying. Maybe that was why no one went to sleep; those sleeping bags make for restless nights, particularly on an empty stomach. We all sit there in our clearing in the woods; it's a dark, moonless night, we sit on fallen logs and on boulders, staring into the flames, lost in our thoughts. It's kind of emo, really. We must be the world's most morose band of traveling universe-savers.

"Want me to tell your fortune?" Cait Sith says hopefully, into the darkness and is greeted with chorusing "NO"s and one "Shut up, Cait Sith!".

Cait Sith shinks in on himself, looking more cold, hungry and tired than a stuffed toy has any right to. "It was just a question," Cait Sith says, sounding injured. "You don't have to bite my head off."

Red XIII stirs at that. "They couldn't," he says, wearily if peaceably, from where he sits staring into the flames, "And I didn't intend to." The big cat paused. "Not until you actually started on our lucky colors," he added.

"It was just a metaphor," Cait Sith says, with offended dignity. "You didn't have to – "

"Drop it, Cat A and Cat B," Cid grunts warningly. "You're giving me a headache."

So said Cid, and we all dropped off into gloomy silence again.

It was totally because Vincent was there. No one had to say it, but I could tell. He was pretty much the most depressing person ever. He didn't have to say anything. Just his presence did it. Yes, I was ignoring the fact that most of our nights had been like this recently -- I mean, we were potentially facing apocalypse – but it was sort of comforting to put a name and a face on it. _Goryo._

When Aeris begins to speak, of course, no one tells her to shut up. That would pretty much be like killing a kitten. She's so impossibly sweet, no one would ever hurt her. "Not long now to the Temple of the Ancients," she says softly. Tifa – sitting beside her, the best friends closer than ever now, in the face of all this danger – nods softly. Aeris laughs a little. "The closer we get," she murmurs, "The more I think about the Gold Saucer. Isn't that silly?"

Cloud glanced at her. Something softened in his hard blue eyes. "I don't think that's silly at all," he said in a low, hearty voice.

Ugh, mush. Aeris smiled her angelic smile at him. "We had good times there," she said with a gentle mischievousness. It's rubbing Tifa the wrong way, I can tell; she's shifting, looking uncomfortable.

Well, so would I. Aeris should know better than to bring this stuff up right now. She's a great person, a lovely person – I'm all about Aeris, don't get me wrong – but this is the one flaw of hers I've always noticed. She's sure she's got Cloud, and she either doesn't mind dangling it before Tifa's desperate eyes or doesn't realize she's doing it. I'd go for ignorance over malevolence, with Aeris – she's too nice to actually want to hurt Tifa – but that doesn't change the fact that it does hurt her. I wonder if anyone else is noticing this;

Cid, at least, looks a little grim. Then again, it's Cid, so it doesn't prove anything.

"What is the Golden Saucer? I've never heard of it." Vincent speaks for the first time that night. We've all heard the director's cut of his life story, now; he's been locked in a coffin for years and years while the world went by. How exceedingly goth of him. Now he doesn't know what anything is or where anything is and asset to the team my ass.

I realize he hasn't eaten his roll; it sits, untouched, on the boulder beside him. My stomach rumbles a protest at this and I narrow my eyes. Hospitality-shirker. I'd pay good money for those empty carbs right now, but I know I'm not going to get them. It's not even that I'm too polite to ask; I just have too much pride to go crawling to that freaky goryo for food. I'll starve to death, and when people go "Whatever happened to that lovely, kind, spunky, intelligent, charming girl Yuffie Kisaragi?" Vincent will have to answer, "I was too enveloped in my own creeposity to notice that she was dying of malnutrition." Ha ha!

Oh, whoops. The conversation is carrying on without me and I grimace, trying to catch up. "—those phoenix chicks on the mountain," Tifa is saying. "Remember, Aeris?"

Aeris giggles an affirmation. "Do _you_ remember? I told Cloud his hair looked like a chocobo."

Cloud coughs a little bit, looking away, while Cid grins at him maliciously.

"Well, your hair does look like a chocobo," Tifa says judiciously, with a rather similar grin. "You can't blame Aeris for saying so."

"I miss those times," Aeris says, and everyone falls silent, because we can all suddenly see tears glinting in the firelight, in her eyes. "Those early days," she says awkwardly, "When we were just starting out, when anything seemed possible. Do you remember when we met Yuffie in the woods?" Her stained-glass laugh shatters when it hits the ground. She wipes at her eyes. "How we'd just been fighting those – those stupid frogs – for days, and all of sudden we see this random ninja girl threatening us with –"

"Dismemberment," Tifa replies, laughing softly. I can feel a slow flush creeping up my breastbone. I don't like being talked about like this, as though I'm not here.

"She looked so young," Aeris murmurs." She's close enough to reach out, touch my knee. "You reminded me of myself right away, Yuffie," she says. There are little tears sliding down her lean cheeks. Cid, Cloud, everyone looks deeply uncomfortable, and I feel exactly the same way. Only Vincent watches like it's a show, a movie, like he – needs some damn popcorn or something.

Aeris pauses. "When this is over," she says to me hesitantly, "When we've done what we set out to do, I'd like you to come with me, Yuffie. After you collect all the material that you possibly can, of course." She laughs, but her voice is vulnerable. She's making me an offer I can barely stomach to refuse. "Stay with me in Midgar, with my stepmother. Just for a few months. It'll be lovely."

I can feel myself just kind of looking at her. I must look so stupid, gaping at her, not saying anything.

"You're like the sister I never had, Yuffie," Aeris says softly. Her eyes, so shiny with tears. "I'd love to spend some real time with you. And we will have time, once this is done – all the time in the world."

I feel a sick sense of foreboding, then, without quite knowing why. Some dark inkling that what Aeris is saying – and it sounds wonderful, and so right – can never possible come true. It's like a premonition. I mean, I want to tell her yes, of course I do. I want to grab the invitation with both hands and haul her after me to Wutai too – show her the real WuTai, not the tourist trap. I want to invite her too, I do, I do. But the sick clenching in the pit of my stomach is telling me it's never going to happen. 

I can feel Vincent's gaze on me. _Goryo_. Bringing of ill luck, of misfortune. Omen of bad tidings.

I stand up, with a jolt, brushing Aeris' hand off my knee. "You are so damn depressing!" I exclaim. "All of you. Sitting here talking like you're in a nursing home. I'm out of here. BED is more interesting than you people. I'll see you around."

I spin and turn on my heel and stumble off, away from the bonfire, and I can feel those red _goryo_ eyes burning a hole into the small of my back, I can feel them long after I know I'm out of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't go to bed. I intend to do that – _think_ I intend to – but I just, I don't know, I'm so shook up that I just kind of plow blindly through the woods for a good few minutes, and, inevitably, realize that I have no real idea of where I'm going. And by that time I'm well out of sight of the light of the campfire, and all I can really do is sit there going "well, shit" and eventually acknowledge that I'm lost. At which point I have to weight my options, which are uniformly unappealing. Try to remember which way I came and get myself lost-er? Yell for the party and – on the off-chance that they can still hear me, which I doubt – be mocked for the rest of my natural life for being too stupid to go to bed properly? Sit here and wait to be found and probably get eaten by whatever random baddies are wandering around in this particular neck of the woods, but retain suitable WuTaian pride?

I'm kind of leaning towards the last option when a new variable is introduced to the equation; I can hear something crashing through the woods. Fabulous-wonderful. I'm not even packing the Pinwheel, just my four-point shuriken. Not only am I going to be eaten alive by wildebeests, my body's gonna be found clutching last season's lame-ass weapon. I grip said outdated model with appropriate trepidation and say a little sutra to Leviathan. The source of the bush-shaking noise emerges into the clearing.

And, as will be no surprise to you and SHOULD be no surprise to me, considering this guy's obvious gift for inserting himself where he's not wanted, it's that freaking _goryo_ Vincent.

At first I think they noticed I wasn't in bed, and he's come out to look for me – I shrink back into the bushes, hiding myself. Like hell I'm going to be rescued by Vincent. I've got some pride. But of course this theory is far too good for Vincent. He's breathing heavily, sweating, and pale; like he's holding something in that could burst forth at any second.

Oh, great, I think, settling into the bushes. Bathroom run. Now on top of everything I've got to watch him take a piss.

Vincent glances around, makes sure there's no one there; then he begins pulling and ripping at his clothes, groaning slightly to the moonless sky, and I begin to fear I'm about to witness some content far too mature for me. I mean, Vincent's a legal adult (many times over, apparently) and Yuffie has no business in the bedrooms of the nation, but she doesn't want to watch.

I begin to ponder the "recede-into-woods, get-myself-loster" option again, when I realize that I have Vincent's options wrong as well. He's not here for any of the reasons I thought up, and I know it too late. Because, as he lifts his bony face to the night sky, moaning in pain, his body begins to change.

He turns into a demon.

_Goryo._

His flesh bursts, actually shreds off of him in a rain of black blood, and underneath is this – crimson, winged, horned creature, straight out of hell, breathing smoke and brimstone. My knees are actually, literally, knocking beneath me – I thought that was just an expression, but I'm trembling so violently that it hurts, the chattering of my teeth shaking my brain. I knew it. I knew it. All I can think is, I was right.

And in the midst of this stupid display of cowardice and self-righteousness and poor planning I do the one other stupid, girly, weak thing I could do. I scream.

I didn't even see it coming, didn't think I was the type, but it rips out of me and then it goes on and on and on. Like I'm never going to run out of air, it echoes back against the shell of black night and hits the _goryo _and I like a slap. I clap my hands over my ears and keep on screaming. I don't think I could stop.

He bursts again, black rain of blood, and underneath is Vincent, bloodied, shaking himself, clad in rags and tatters. He's covered with nicks and cuts, even that golden arm is bloodied. Now knowing I'm there, he has no trouble seeing me, and he crosses the clearing in powerful bare-footed strides and claps the metal hand over my mouth, gagging me painfully. I nearly choke on my tongue.

I wish I had some salt. They say you can ward them off with salt.

"Be quiet," the _goryo_ suggests, and by force and fear I am.

He's got me bent backwards, his other arm wrapped around my waist, in a sick parody of the pose of lovers in the movies, the girl all swoony and starry-eyed in her beefcake's manly arms. I do see stars, before my eyes – but only little golden ones, from lack of air. I can feel my strength failing me; I feel so heavy, can sense myself going limp in Vincent's arms, which smell of fear and brimstone.

He senses me failing at lets me go. Guess he wants to play with his food.

Well, this _goryo_'s got WuTaian royalty, and she's not going to cry and beg. The brave don't fear the grave, right? Well, I do fear the grave, so much right now that I can barely think straight, but floating on the surface of my fear is my honor, and I skim it off and toss a bucket of it at Vincent. He's gonna get a piece of my mind. "_Goryo_!" I shriek, pointing at him. "_Goryo_! I knew it! I _knew_ it!" My finger trembles in my line of vision, to such an extreme that there are moment when I'm not even pointing at Vincent at all. "They're all going to know too!" I inform him. "Even if you kill me. They're not stupid, you know! They'll find out!"

I can feel tears dashing out my own eyes. So this was the cause of my ill-omen. It isn't Aeris who won't make it after the battles, to that flower-decked cottage in a foreign land; it's me. What a ridiculous way to go; death by _goryo_. They're supposed to be fairy tales, for crying out loud! They're not _allowed_ to really exist! The ShinRa are especially keen on that; they like telling tourists about the haikus and geisha and pretty snowcapped mountains of WuTai, but less savory aspects of our culture they're tried to eradicate… why am I thinking about this now? Am I crazy? This isn't the time to be pondering imperialism! I'm about to get eaten!

I've fallen silent, and Vincent isn't saying anything either. He's just staring at me. I try not to search those red eyes for his plans. I'm sure they'll be painful enough without knowing them in advance.

"No," he gasps. Every word seems to cost him; his lips are bloody. "You're safe. I'm not a _goryo_. I'm sorry I…."

"Oh come on," I bleat on and on like some psychotic sheep, "Do you think I'm an idiot? Not even the dumbest _goryo_ would admit to being a _goryo._ I wasn't born yester – "

Vincent sways, once or twice, then collapses to his knees. He twitches a little; his eyes are unfocussed, almost sightless. He slowly sinks to the forest floor, spasming.

He's not faking. I know that as surely as I know that, seconds ago, he was a demon. I'm not even sure what's going on any more, whether this guy is dying or about to kill me, but no Princess of WuTai coldly watches someone in that kind of condition and before I'm consciously aware of my actions I drop to my own knees, rest a reassuring hand on his brow, cradle his head and shoulders in my lap. He's shaking like a child, and he's cold, ice cold. "Vincent," I say, amazed by how calm I suddenly sound, "Are you all right? Can you hear me?"

He nods jerkily. Or I think he does. It may just have been another tremor. "What's the matter? Has this happened before?" There are diseases that cause this sort of thing. I rack my memory. Was it epilepsy or syphilis? All those diseases with 's' and 'y' kind of blend together in times of crisis….

"It's the Beast," his voice seems ripped from him, his mouth a gaping wound, "It's tearing me apart."

"What?"

"Inside." He brushes feebly at his chest. "Inside me…."

And I understand what he means and what he has to do and I'm amazed at my own words when I hear myself say them. "Then let it out."

"No." He winces in pain and clutches at his chest; I look at where his fingers are scrabbling and I can actually see movement, claws raking at him from inside. "You're afraid."

He may be a _goryo_ but he's a freaking ponce. "I'm afraid for you."

"You think it'll hurt you."

"Will it hurt me?"

"No, but – "

"Then let it out."

He hesitates in the space between heartbeats and whimpers.

I drop my doctor's training and try to remember what the monks taught me, long ago in the pagoda. I bend over his chest, drawing a mandala in the red ink that seeps from his pores. "By order of the princess of WuTai, creature of the night," I say in a voice that is absurdly confident, "By the power of Leviathan, by the light of deep water, leave this man!" I strike his chest lightly with the heel of my hand. "Beast -- I exorcise you!"

There's a ripping sound. Vincent pushes at my shoulder feebly. He's still fighting it. _Ponce_. "Vincent," I tell him quietly, though I can't keep the urgency out of my voice. "You can trust me. Let it out."

"I – "

"Please."

There is a sound of breaking and a rain of black blood and brimstone and the Beast has returned. Vincent said it wouldn't hurt me.

Well, if he's wrong, I won't have long to brood.


	4. Chapter 4

The Beast and I stare at each other. For a long, long time. So that Vincent's blood dries on my arms and hands; I mean, I'm certainly not going to risk moving enough to wipe it off. That's the kind of vanity that gets people eaten.

You want to know how long this goes on? Not for seconds. Not for minutes. For hours. _Hours._

Til the first light of dawn. You've got no damn idea how long that feels when your legs are asleep and there's nothing to do except stare into the eyes of some fickle hellbeast thing. I mean, you're terrified as well as bored. Plus, I mean, I'm no great spirit of love and charity, and I still don't like the guy, but I'm feeling motherly now (in a scary, occulty way) and I want to be sure Vincent was still in there. By every god, my feet are cold. Anyway, it's not like I can just walk back to camp. Turn my back on that Beast thing and try to walk away from it? Are you bloody well kidding me? No thanks, I don't have a death wish, I'm much too materialistic for that.

When the edge of the sun pokes its nose out over the horizon, however, the Beast blinks and vanishes. Not in the big, dramatic, rain-of-blood nightmare he'd emerged from, earlier that night; he just sort of winks out like a star, and in his place, Vincent lies on the ground, no longer bloody, white skin stainless and pure, stretched so taut over bone. He is breathing slowly, evenly; I can see his chest rise and fall.

I'm not proud of what I do then. I'm really not. But look, I still don't like him, and he's obviously somehow fine. Fabulous-wonderful, but I'm not going to hang around and wait for him to wake up. It's dawn, so the woods are safer. Besides, the peaceful, serene smile on Vincent's sleeping face frankly just pisses me off. I just stood all night staring into the cold red eyes of certain, _goryo_-iffic doom. Come on, is there no justice in the world?

So I turn away and push through the woods, tracing my trail by the half-light back to camp, and I leave Vincent there behind me in the woods. I'm going to get some sleep. I didn't sign up for this riveting, heroic shit. I just wanted to steal stuff.

000

Cloud, when he sees the circles under my eyes and hears my half-assed story about getting lost in the woods (I'm not too bothered about that WuTaian dignity at this point) is very sympathetic and tells me we'll take a break today and to go get some sleep. Okay, this isn't quite how it happens. At first he's just annoyed at me for "vanishing like that", plus he's demanding where Vincent went and when he'll be back (what am I, the _goryo_'s mother?). Then Aeris – lovable sheepbrained voice of reason – steps in and suggests that I must be coming down with something, for a WuTaian ninja to be disoriented so easily, and that I should be allowed bed rest. I'm not even awake enough to be offended by the implications of this, nor concerned at Tifa's sad look when Cloud eagerly agrees. I'm just exhausted, frankly. That doesn't leave much room for anything else. The last thing I hear, as I stumble to my pup tent and slide myself through the flap, is Cloud agreeing that they'd go out and do some training for the day.

_Camp to myself_, I think. Lovely, too bad I won't be awake to enjoy it. And then my head hits my pillow and blessed blackness claims me.

I wake up refreshed, calm, warm-orange afternoon light filtering through the cracks of my tent, to a strange sound. I listen again, then realize what it is; someone is knocking on my tent flap.

Oh for crying out… "You don't knock on tentflaps, spaghetti-brain," I say patiently to whoever it is, "You either come in or you stay out." Sounds sort of wise, actually. I should write that down somewhere. He elects to come in.

It's Vincent, natch. I can't even bother to be surprised any more; nor can I work up much of my prior fear and loathing. Last night was too surreal to… well, to bother to even take seriously, as strange as that sounds. It's over, and he's obviously messed up in a big way, and I don't really have the time. "Rough night?" I say evenly, sitting up on my bedroll, running a sleepy hand through my hair.

He crouches awkwardly in a tent far too small for his gangling frame. Looks fine – what little you can see of his face, anyway. Just tired. So not fair. He looks better after being corporeally transformed into a demon than I do after a hangover. "To put it mildly."

"What happened last night?" I ask bluntly. He looks reluctant, but I'm not having that crap. "Don't you dare say it's none of my beeswax! I've got a right to know."

He pauses, which I'm used to, I guess. He'll speak when he's ready. And he does, finally. "_Goryo_," he says slowly. "You called me a _goryo_."

I snort. "Don't you dare get pissy at me, either. I think I kind of had a reason."

He shakes his head. "It's not that. I was… surprised you knew that word."

_Well, tickle me pink,_ my most sarcastic inner voice says in a special brand of ubersarcasm. _You don't say_. "Why be surprised? I am WuTaian," I point out. "I mean, you noticed that, you pointed it out. And it's a WuTaian story, right?"

He hesitates. "You don't quite understand. The reason I commented – "

I flap my most casual hand at him. (It happens to be my left.) "No, I get it. I get a lot of attention. People around here aren't exactly politically cor – "

"No, you don't 'get it'." Now he sounds almost irritated, which I think is sort of rich, considering what I've had to put up with over the last day. "Why should I care that you're WuTaian? I've half WuTaian blood myself. You just looked different. You had the hair, the eyes, but you… you look different."

Despite me, my curiosity is piqued. "Different from what?"

"A normal WuTaian girl," he snorts. "In my time in WuTai, the girls wore kimono. Had long hair. Do they all dress like you now?" He eyes my short hair and hotpants with obvious distaste very poorly concealed. "Is that the fashion?"

My laugh is too bitter for someone in her teens. Gods, I'm aging prematurely, on top of everything else. "No. It's not a WuTai thing, it's a Yuffie thing. Don't worry, your precious pretty kimono are…" and then I realize what he's said. "You're half WuTaian?"

He nods slightly.

I look at him and, yes, I can't believe I didn't see it. Of course he's half WuTaian. He looks WuTaian. He looks almost exactly like Tseng, who got an unbelievable amount of flak when he was hired just for having some ancient WuTaian grandmother. "Leviathan," I blurt out, "I am such an idiot!" I'm really kicking myself, too. I was so busy being pissy at him that I didn't even notice what was staring me in the face. Then, all of a sudden, that makes me pissy, too. Why should I be the one on the guilt trip? I didn't terrorize some poor lost teenage girl in the woods. "So what's the other half?" I say snidely. "Fickle hellbeast?"

That does the trick with satisfying speed. Vincent melts in on himself, looking small and fragile. "Please…"

"What? Don't tell the others?" I scoff. "Of course I'm going to tell the others. I owe you nil, _goryo_ boy."

"Not that," he says. "I've already told them. Just now."

I consider this. "How did they take it?" I ask curiously.

"Not badly," he says dryly. "Your leader's exact words were 'Whatever. We've got other things to worry about'."

I measure the words against Cloud. Yeah, they fit. He's such a pooft. "Figures," I groan. "That's Cloud. Doesn't want an innocent WuTaian exchange student, but he'll take the evil ravening demon thing."

"It's not a demon," Vincent says bitterly. "Actually, it's extremely scientific."

I settle myself a little. "Why do I get the feeling there's a big, long story full of heartbreak behind this?"

Vincent eyes me coldly. "Perhaps there is. But you'll never know it." 

"Not even if I ask?"

"I appreciate what you did last night," he says quietly. "But there are matters I prefer to keep private and which, no, I will not share."

And you know what? I can accept that. Honor, pride. That's a WuTaian thing. It reminds me of home. I act offended, though. I know how to grab a slight moral edge. "Well, I hope you're proud of yourself. Considering." He does look guilty, well, the half-inch of his eyes that I can see looks guilty. The rest of him just looks cloaked. "Tell me this, though,' I said, and I really am curious about this part and really do want to know. "You told me it wouldn't hurt me. Was that the truth? Because I mean…" I remember how he looked, on the ground, in such utter pain. "You know, in that situation, I'd probably lie."

He chuckles slightly. It's rather unnerving. "It was the truth," he says. "The beast is a weapon. It won't and cannot hurt those with pure hearts."

"How do you know I have a pure heart?"

"I gambled," he says flatly, but then his eyes soften. "I didn't think it likely that I'd be wrong."

I feel myself blushing. Oh no no no, don't do this to me, body. Stomach, stay butterfly-free. You've still got to rake this guy over the coals. He deserves it. "I resent that," I told him. "I'm a big-time materia thief, truth be told. No one messes with me."

His look is unimpressed. "I was a Turk," he replies dryly. "We're even."

"A –" This is just getting ridiculous. "What the f…uffle?" I exclaim, throwing one arm out in emphasis, forgetting we're in a tent. It smacks sort of painfully into the canvas. Vincent is good enough not to comment. "You're a Turk?! What the hell! Seriously, I don't care what Cloud says, AVALANCHE has GOT to have some kind of damn rule against that. You can't just be on both sides at once!"

"I was a Turk," Vincent replies sharply. "Now I hate them. I stand by Cloud Strife and his party."

I shake my head. "What makes you so sure Cloud Strife and party even WANT you? What do you have against you? Let's see." I tick the reasons off on my fingers. "Locked in a coffin for seventy years, doesn't really know anything. Ex-Turk. Scary fashion sense. And, oh yeah, lest we forget, has a _GORYO _inside him. And what do you have going in your favor?" I held out two empty palms. "Yeah, you guessed it, a big fat nothing. Someone tell this man what he's won."

"I offer my weakness," Vincent says simply.

I stare at him. "What?"

"I offer my weakness," he repeats. "I am not the strongest member of your team. I am well-aware of that. The faults you listed are true. I was a warrior, once, and in time that will return to me. But until then, I will serve as the weak link. It is not a dishonorable position. Noble warriors fight harder, knowing others depend upon them."

I think about that. It seems to be true. I can't think of any other excuse for Elena, anyway. "Too bad," I say. "I was sure you were going to be the comic relief." 

He gives me a weird look, like he can't even tell whether I'm joking.

I sigh. "I was sleeping. Is there something important you wanted to say?" 

"I apologize," he says, and his muffled voice is deeply troubled. "I want to say that formally, and be sure you know. I treated you dishonorably. I'll go." And he turns to do just that.

This could be the end, between us, I realize. We could be honorable enemies, me and this _goryo_. We each know where the other stands. I could be noble. I could be proud.

Or I could take the next step, the step after that. Move from cold honor to warm friendship. Move from believing that there's a _goryo _out there waiting to get me to believing there's a broken man, right here, who needs some kindness. Who could maybe offer me something in return.

"Hey," I say, as he's half-disappeared out the tent flap. "You lived like a kazillion years ago, right?"

I can see his shoulders stiffen as he sighs. Well, whatever. "Something along those lines."

"In WuTai, right?"

He glances back at me. "Yes."

"Tell me about it," I invite him. I pull myself up to sit cross-legged on my sleeping bag, purposely in a childlike pose, all ready to listen to stories. "You nailed it," I tell him. "WuTai has changed, big time. And frankly, I miss the old WuTai. Tell me about it like it was. Before geisha bars and tacky plastic statues of Leviathan."

He doesn't want to talk about his past. I can see it in his eyes. Well, boo hoo hoo, cry we a river. It's my past too. And I'm entitled. "Don't want to be the weak link?" I challenge him. "Don't want to be the _goryo?_ Pull your weight. Tell me about the past."

He hesitates.

I smile. My winning, ugly, foxy little smile. "I'll bring you up to speed on the future," I say. "It'll be a contract. I'm a super-savvy businesswoman. Ask Aeris. She'll tell you."

The seconds roll past the afternoon, towards the sun. And Vincent – shaking his head visibly at his own folly – steps back into the tent.

"Ooh," I say brightly. "Storytime."

"Firstly," Vincent says sarcastically, "I remember WuTaian ladies as retiring and demure."

"Obviously some things have changed for the better," I say, and wait for more. But Vincent's doing his stupid guilt thing again, looking away, hesitating.

"You don't want this," he says. "You think I'm a _goryo_."

"Pssht. Dumb old codger," I scoff. "The first thing you've got to learn about this exciting modern world is that there's no such thing as _goryo._ Now come on," I order. "Let's hear something less boring. You know, I haven't got all day."

THE END

_A/N: I hope you've enjoyed this, it was quite a lot of fun to write, a neat place to go within Yuffie's character. If you've read the whole story through, I'd be very grateful if you'd take the time to review. It's always nice to know you're not writing to the void! Much love, Locked Heart Ami._


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